Angela's Monologue
by trisanamcgraw
Summary: Fanfiction for The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin. The conflicted thoughts of Angela Wexler at a crucial point in the story. Spoilers up to the first half of the novel.


This started out as one of a few choices for assignments after I read the book. I wrote the monologue for about halfway through the story, with Angela's thoughts on the marriage, her family, and the other players. Also, if the font of the title comes up on fanfiction.net, it's in "Nuptial Script" -- just thought I'd put a little irony in there.

Angela's Monologue

By Trisana McGraw

Hi, sorry I'm late. I just -- what? Oh, Denton's fine. So, I -- yes, Mom's fine, the whole family's fine. I was -- _yes_, I'm all right, too. Why am I running my fingers over my burn? Oh, no reason -- I'm _fine_, I told you -- Sydelle, would you PLEASE BE QUIET AND LISTEN? . . . I'm sorry, Sydelle, I didn't mean it. I just don't feel well. You're right, it's the excitement of leaving the hospital and, and everything. Yes, I guess I am a little nervous about the bomber. What about our clues, Sydelle? Nothing past what we already thought?

Yes, that was a sigh. Well, I'd like to find out more about the clues so we have a chance to win the game. I wonder how the others are doing. Everyone's interested in linking the will to the game; it's a good thing you made that copy. . . . You know, the other day, Theo was telling me about how he thought a line from the will was from one of those songs about America. What? You think Theo Theodorakis has a crush on me? Oh, Sydelle, that's not true. Really, he knows I'm getting married -- well, Chris was wrong. Theo just acts a little shy around me, but it's nothing big. Stop smiling like that, Sydelle -- what, am _I_ interested in Theo? Of course not. And I'm going to be a married woman soon -- Of course I'm happy, don't I look like I am?

Really? Chris is leaving the hospital today, when we are? That's wonderful; I'm so happy that the medicine is helping him. He deserves to be truly healthy again. Yeah -- that smile is really sweet; he's a sweet kid. Oh -- yes, Denton is a good man, to help Chris. Yes, I am lucky to have him . . . I am lucky.

What would you do with the money, Sydelle? Huh, retiring would be nice; it sounds like a good idea, to be able to relax. Yeah, I do "relax" a lot, I guess, not doing much. Being a doctor's wife isn't that much work besides parties, as all of Mom's friends say. Oh -- what would _I_ do with the inheritance? Well, I'd . . . oh, I don't know. No, really, I -- Well, I _guess_ I'd use the money to go back to college; I was going to be a doctor, you know, a real one.

But from the looks of things, I don't think we're going to be getting _any_ money. We've been here in the hospital for a while now, and we don't know anything else about our clues. What? I sound bitter? No, Sydelle, I'm not -- I'm not -- I don't know _what_ I am! I wrote _none_, then _person_ on the receipt when they asked for position; as if I'm no one at all, as if there's nothing important or special about me. Am I really no one without Denton and the wedding? All people have said to me in the three months we've been here is "Angela, are you excited for the wedding?" or "Where's your darling Denton Deere?" and never anything about _me_. Did you know, Sydelle, that I only took one year of college? I had to drop out because we didn't have quite enough money for me to continue on to medical school. "No, Angela, when Denton is a real doctor, _he_ can support you. You'll never have to be a doctor like you want." So, me, bitter -- you're right, I'm full of . . . emotions. . . . No, I can't continue. Sydelle, please, drop the whole discussion. I'm saying too much.

What did you say? That it's all right for me to . . . let it all out, and you won't tell anyone? Really? Yes, I'd like to sit down, thank you.

The truth is, I'm not sure if I'm ready for marriage. This whole wedding is getting out of hand, I think. I . . . I care about Denton, I really do. And when I feel unsure, Denton or my parents tell me that I'm doing the right thing -- but am I? Am I marrying for love or just convenience? I really don't know. Oh, now I sound like I have absolutely no idea what I want.

No, I'm all right. My hands just hurt a little. Yes, the bombing _was_ traumatizing. If only the bomb had blown up the whole restaurant, I could get a break, and no one would bother me -- _Oh no._

Did . . . did I just say that out loud? Oh, well, I just meant that -- You know? About the bombings, that I'm the -- How do you know? You heard Turtle and me talking yesterday. Did anyone else hear? No -- are you sure? All right. 

Why did I do it, you want to know? To be perfectly honest, I can't take this. This has never been about what I want for a wedding; it's only been what Mom wants, so she can show off her married daughter to her friends. I was trying to hold off the wedding, so maybe I wouldn't have all the attention. I didn't want to hurt anyone, really, just postpone these horrible wedding plans. At the shower . . . I couldn't let Turtle get hurt when she grabbed the box with the bomb. I couldn't injure my baby sister because of my crazy scheme. I must be crazy; that's the only way to explain it. Please, please don't tell my mom. She would be devastated if she knew. Please, Sydelle, I'm begging you to keep the secret.

I'm honestly worried about my parents. They don't seem happy with one another or their lives. Dad's always unhappy; he didn't even want to play for the money. Mom seems really interested in Hoo's Restaurant; she's taken the whole place on her shoulders to work on, Dad says. I think she's finally found a real job for her, the way she hangs around Shin Hoo's and is bossing Mr. Hoo around about the decorations and stuff. But Dad hasn't found something to make him happy. He just always looks so sad, and Mom's barely hanging on to this. I just want them to be happy.

Yes, it was because of our parents that Turtle set the fourth bomb and covered for me. You're right; she's really a good kid, under that bratty-ness she usually shows. Turtle is really getting into the game. I have no idea what she and her partner have figured out with their clues, because she's been acting so secretive. But she's clever in that sense, by not letting anyone else find out what she's thinking. I hope she wins; not for me, but for her.

And she's really become attached to the dressmaker; Mrs. . . . Mrs. Baumbach. She seems like a nice person, and I'm glad Turtle has someone to talk to, because Mom -- Well.

I've been thinking that this game is stupid; the whole idea, and especially the heirs, like the delivery boy and the cleaning lady. That woman Crow -- she's rather strange, don't you think? Well, I don't mean to gossip, I just . . . think that she's hiding something. I don't know much about her or Otis Amber; do you think either of them could be actually linked to Mr. Westing?

You're right: It's such an interesting thing, and to have a judge in the game as well. Judge Ford was trying to get to know us at that party she threw; she seemed nice enough. What -- cunning? I'm not sure; the judge didn't strike me as that. You think Mr. McSouthers and Judge Ford are doing something in secret? Really? Well, it's probably something that directly concerns Mr. Westing, since they both knew him personally, unlike you and me.

Like I said -- I used to think the Westing game was stupid, but now I'd like to win. Maybe with the money I could -- I could go back to college. I want to go to medical school, to be someone other than "Angela Wexler Deere."

Thank you, Sydelle, thank you for listening. Chris was right; we were all paired with the perfect partner.


End file.
